


Song of the Broken

by Vultoni_and_Arnaera



Series: VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition [11]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: AU: Heartsong, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, No Beta, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Out of Character, Out of Character Toppat Clan, Platonic Cuddling, Rapidly Promoted Executive Ending | RPE (Henry Stickmin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vultoni_and_Arnaera/pseuds/Vultoni_and_Arnaera
Summary: Heartsong:The expression of emotions through the medium of song. The sound waves that form this melody originating from the chest cavity.A wide range of sound can be produced in this process, everything from instrument and percussion sounds to electronic and synth tones.Henry doesn't remember the last time he sang.
Relationships: Henry Stickmin & The Toppat Clan
Series: VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002828
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	1. Silent Solo

**Author's Note:**

> OOC Level: The highest I may ever write. Nobody is the slightest bit in character. If you care even a little bit about keeping characters in-character then turn back now.
> 
> This reminds me of the fanfics on my old account. Angsty, OOC, and not a care for canon.
> 
> A bit of my old style in the new fandom. 
> 
> So yeah, don't take this too seriously.
> 
> And let me know what you think. Feedback of any kind is always appreciated, but especially on things like this that are unplanned spur-of-the-moment creations.

It's always so loud here.

A constant stream of noise filled the airship. Beyond just the ambient noise of the big airborne base, the persistent din of voices, of conversation and whispers and laughter rings in his ears at all times. So unaccustomed to being around other people for so long that finding himself suddenly among so many is a shock to his system. He'll sometimes hide away in some secluded corner to get away from the noise.

But it's more than just the ambience and the voices. They are manageable to an extent.

What really gets to him is the singing.

There's always a song in the air. The swirling melody of emotions is near always present wherever he goes. He hears sweet songs of love and elation, warm tunes of friendship and camaraderie, quiet notes of intimacy and contentment. He hears grand solos and playful duets and powerful choirs.

It's overwhelming. The foreign emotions rattle is his chest, shake his very core. He feels his heart quake with the alien warmth.

But it's not for him. It's never for him.

They don't want him here. He is an outsider, a note played in the wrong key. If he were to just vanish one day, they wouldn't bat an eyelid.

Hell, they'd probably celebrate.

He won't give them more of a reason to hate him by joining in. His heartsong is ugly, a jumble of discordant notes that jar from his chest like an untuned piano. The melody is awkward and clumsy, nothing like the sweeping orchestral serenades and lively, flowing beats that surround him.

His song is unwanted here, just like he is. The least he can do is stay quiet.

Henry has already disrupted their harmony enough.


	2. Missing Melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know what I'm doing with this fic. It just showed up in my head and I wrote it.

The new chief is a strange one.

He's an okay leader. Unexperienced and selfish, but he's learning. Even the most critical among them don't expect perfection from a complete outsider.

His skills as a thief make up for it somewhat. The knowledge and experience he brings to the table rival even some of their most seasoned members. Coupled with the fact that he was trying to understand and do better, most had no reason to get rid of him immediately.

They would watch him carefully. Should he show signs of changing for the worse then there would be no mercy for him. It is the duty of every member to protect the Toppat Clan from both internal and external threats.

But that was standard for every new chief. All who became leader were forced to grow and change by the position. They were shaped the decisions and trials they faced. No one who took the leadership of the Toppat Clan came out unscathed.

Some shattered under the pressure, breaking down into husks of humanity. Others warped, were twisted into fearful facsimiles of who they once were.

Not everyone could bear the weight it brought, but where some snapped under the responsibility, others learned to bend.

They bowed with the weight but didn't let it break them. It took a particular kind of person to hold the delicate balance between duty and self.

Whether the new leader could was yet to be seen. Until then, they would only observe.

But beyond that, he was odd as a person as well.

He avoided mostly everybody, only speaking to the other members when necessary. He did not socialize or join them for meals or enter the communal areas.

He did not sing.

His heartsong was silent. No Toppat had ever heard it. In a community where expressing emotion through your melody was encouraged if not expected, having someone so quiet in their midst was unnerving.

No one could get a true read on him. Facial expressions and body language could be faked but the soul's serenade could not. The lack of music made him seem even more closed off.

It made him feel dead, a lifeless body that refused to fall down.

He was like a ghost in the hallways. Like an echo of a living being that only appeared when called.

That did not bode well for his health. Being so isolated took its toll on one's wellbeing. To shun all companionship and like in solitude was soul-crushing, destroying the heart and mind from loneliness. It was a state they only inflicted on their enemies.

Not their own chief.

Humans were communal creatures. They weren't meant to be so alone.

He would only cause himself suffering with this self-isolation, but until he trusted them enough to help, there was nothing any of them could do.

For now, all they could do was wait.


	3. Tentative Duet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that this fic is basically my "Henry finds a home in the Toppat Clan" hc/au taken to an extreme mixed with a load of angst and hurt/comfort and an au I made just for this fic. Added to that is a lot of ooc characterization and some communal intimacy concepts and you get this hot mess of a fic.
> 
> I still love it though. Writing these kinds of self-indulgent fics makes me happy.

He was one of the first people to talk to the new chief, or rather to talk to him beyond just official business.

It started with a few greetings, a couple 'good morning's and 'how are you's. They were simple little conversing standards that passed between people so often they lost their meaning. He didn't expect anything to come of it. After all, he wasn't the only one to attempt small talk with him.

But he must have done something different because he was the only one the chief spoke to for more than just business.

And Burt's not quite sure what to think about that.

At first it was just returned pleasantries. They were stilted greetings and almost mechanical replies to his casual questions. Like an inexperienced actor going off-script, he seemed to stumble through any interactions that didn't involve him as chief.

It was like he had forgotten who he was outside his role, and that makes Burt wonder.

Who are you really? What is behind that front you put up?

Do you even remember anymore?

When was the last time you felt like yourself?

How long since you last sang? 

How long since you last let your emotions free until they couldn't be contained by the cage of your ribs and escaped into the open air?

When did your soul go silent?

What stole its voice?

He doesn't know the answers to these questions. He doesn't know if he ever will.

But Burt has caught glimpses behind his mask. Beyond the false layers is a real smile, a true personality that he has seen only a few times. There's a fire behind those eyes.

He wants to uncover more, to bring the real Henry into the light again. If not for his duty, then for the heart that lived in darkness, the heart that could no longer sing.

It may be selfish, but Burt wants to hear his melody. He wants to hear Henry's own unique voice sing with some overflowing emotion. Joy, sadness, anger, love, something.

Anything besides the deafening quiet.

Maybe Burt is the wrong person for this. He's about as subtle as a megaphone and can be callous and unempathetic. Not to mention that his typical tone isn't very welcoming, but he's going to try.

To try to bring that flickering flame into a blaze. To see behind that mask and maybe someday make him feel safe enough to lower it. To help a muted heart to sing again.

For Henry, his friend and chief, he will try.


	4. Soothing Notes

Henry knows the others consider him weird. He's not blind.

It's just that he's been quiet so long that it is second nature to keep his emotions inside. It's been years since he has heard his own song. He barely even remembers what it sounds like now. The broader melody is all he can recall, it's sloppy notes sounding like the work of a child.

The sound of it makes him cringe. No one wants to hear such a tune. Everyone's better off if he doesn't let it out.

It's not like he spends much time around the others anyway. Nobody interacted with him beyond pleasantries.

Well, no one but him.

Burt Curtis, head of communications, monotone and monotonous worker, stable pillar of the elites, and a person Henry could tentatively call his friend. When he took over he didn't expect to have any connections with anyone. Surely they would hate him for what he did. It made sense to him.

But here he was, making an actual friend. It completely surprised him.

Even if it was just a surface-level acquaintance, Henry was so pathetically grateful for it. Even if it makes him feel like a stray dog begging for scraps, he clings to each kind interaction.

But that's all he's ever been, isn't it? Just a stray.

Burt once asked him why it was only him he talked to. He'd said it was because he liked his company.

Because he couldn't say that his presence was calming, that being around him didn't tire him out like almost everybody else. That would only sound cheesy.

His song, the few times he's heard it, was a low, thumping beat. A bit of background instrumentals accompanied it in a sort of ambiance that didn't detract from the main rhythm that changed with his mood. In a way it was like his voice, single-toned but not droning or dragging on.

Henry found it almost soothing to hear.

But to put that into words would be the height of embarrassment. He wants to maintain at least a sliver of dignity around him and confessing that would destroy all of it. It would make him sound like a cheap romance novel. The kind where finding love would be the end of all the characters' problems.

So he doesn't. He keeps his cringe-worthy words to himself and enjoys his friendship while he still can.

Burt's loyalty was first and foremost to the Toppat Clan. Henry respected him for that even if it hurt to admit their friendship was a fleeting thing. When they eventually turned on him for his actions there would be no one on his side.

He's fine with that. Really, he is. It was just his lot in life. 

So he'll savor the warmth of companionship while he still can. The closeness is almost addictive, almost enough to make him forget what being alone was like. 

It can't erase it completely. It shouldn't. He can't let himself get used to this, to his presence.

Even if he really, really wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are you people still reading this?


End file.
